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Mr. Punch on Tour试读：
MR PUNCH ON TOUR.
Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day.Mr. and Mrs. Jones's Walking Tour..
(At the Shakspeare Hotel). Voice from the office: "Porter, take this lady and gentleman to the Romeo and Juliet room."MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
THE HUMOUR OF TRAVEL
AT HOME AND ABROADDEPICTED BY
PHIL MAY, CHARLES KEENE, GEORGE DU MAURIER, L. RAVEN-HILL, BERNARD PARTRIDGE, F. H. TOWNSEND, DUDLEY HARDY, REGINALD CLEAVER, GORDON BROWNE, LEWIS BAUMER,G. D. ARMOUR, A. WALLIS MILLS, LANCE THACKERAY, AND OTHERS.
WITH 153 ILLUSTRATIONSPUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH" THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.THE PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR
Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo. 192 pages fully illustrated LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD
MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDRENTHE HUMOUR OF TRAVELThere is nothing insular about Mr. Punch. Judging by his features, familiar though these be and long as they have been typical of English humour, he is not without some trace of foreign origin. Indeed, we fancy that were a very searching enquiry to be made into his ancestry we might find he had a far-off forebear who was, let us say, Italian! Perhaps we have here the explanation of his breadth of mind and wide sympathy which, however deeply rooted in the good soil of old England, are by no means absolutely delimited by our coast line.
It is thus that we find him consistently the best of travelling companions, for there is none he is more ready to castigate with the whip of his satire than the insular Englishman abroad. This is as it should be, and in these days of the entente cordiale especially, when the inducements to Continental travel are steadily increasing, all patriotic Englishmen are anxious that their fellow-countrymen should give as good an account of themselves as possible when visiting the fair lands of our friends across the silver streak.
Mr. Punch, while always ready to stand for English ideals of right and fair-dealing, has equally endeavoured throughout his long career to show that all the good manners of Europe are not to be found on the Continent. But above all, wherever he goes, let his travels be within those green isles where he reigns as king of fun or as far afield as the land of the Sphinx, he diffuses that good humour which is the essential characteristic of the Englishman and adds so much to the joy of life. The present collection, illustrative of the humours of travel at home and abroad, certainly does not bear out the ancient criticism as to the English taking their pleasures sadly. Like many another book in this same library it proves rather that they take their misadventures joyously.MR. PUNCH ON TOUR
Mrs. Ramsbotham in Rome.—When Mrs. R. was in Rome she insisted on the guide taking her and her party to see the Papal Bulls of which she had always heard so much. "I suppose," she said, "they're kept on some farm, and are exhibited for prizes just like the King's or the Prince of Wales'." The worthy lady added that she couldn't help laughing to think what a mistake she made in Holland when she was taken to see "Paul Potter's Bull," which turned out to be only a picture.
A Curious Landscape Feature observable at Monte Carlo in the Early Spring.—Blue Rocks.
HINTS TO TOURISTS
If you are put with a friend in a double-bedded room, bear in mind that inside walls are only lath and plaster, and that every word you say will be heard in the next room. Therefore carry on your conversation at the tip-top of your voice, and make as much noise as you can in packing, and in splashing, and in stumping round your room.
Always give to beggars who waylay you on the road, and if you know their language, accompany your gift with a little stagey speech to the effect that all we English have more money than we know how to spend, and it is our duty when we travel to succour the distressed. This will mightily encourage the impostors in their trade, and engender a great nuisance for tourists who are poorer or less foolish than yourself.
She meant Nothing Wrong.—Curate to American Visitor. How do you like our church, Mrs. Golightly? It is very generally admired.
Mrs. Golightly. Yes, it's very pretty, but if it only had a clock fitted on the tower, it would be useful as well as ornamental.TACTFUL SYMPATHY
Genial Friend. "Hullo, old man, getting on all right?"
Our artist, while staying in the country, thinks it would be a good opportunity for studying calves.
Yachting Man. "Well, I always said you were a plucky fellow, Splinter; but really, now, I did not give you credit——"
Splinter (not displeased). "How do you mean?"
Yachting Man. "Why, with your spars, to put out in such a gale o' wind as this."
TRAVELLERS' TALES
First Traveller (in the smoking-room). I think the most marvellous sight I ever saw was when I was crossing the Bight of Benin. You know the Bight?
Second Traveller. Perfectly. Shot two sea-serpents there last year.
Third Traveller. I landed hard by when I cycled across Africa.
First Traveller. Well, it was there we sighted a man who had crossed from Buenos Ayres on a hen-coop, with a cotton umbrella for a sail, and—— Other Travellers (jealously in chorus). Oh! Come, I say!
Quiet Man (in corner). Oh, I'll vouch for the truth of the assertion.
First Traveller (nettled). How's that?
Quiet Man. Why, I was the man.
[Company disperses.
Next best thing to the Persian Locomotive Carpet of Eastern Fable.—The "Travelling Rug" of Western fact.
Brown, who has had a hard day sight-seeing, in Tunis, goes to a café for a quiet drink and rest. Result!
A HAPPY HOLIDAY
Now I really do not care a
Hang about the Riviera,
In the daytime you've a gay time,
But the nights are very cold.
And for any kind of touring,
Which I used to find alluring,
I for biking had a liking,
But I now have grown too old.
Then the constant change of weather
To my thinking, altogether
Knocked the notion of an ocean
Trip completely on the head;
I've a horror, too, of "trippers,"
'Arrys, 'Arriets, and "nippers,"
So a jolly quiet holiDay I spent at home in bed.
No Difference.—English Customer (to Manager of restaurant). I see, Signor Maraschino, that the American gentleman and his wife who have just left drank nothing but water with their dinner. Does that make much difference in their bill?
Signor Maraschino. Noting, sir. They pay same as yourself and lady, who 'ave champagne. Oderwise 'ow should we live?
"The Great Loan Land."—Russia.
What did Mr. Punch do in the Easter Recess?—Volunteer review! Not a bit of it! He just popped over, and had a few days of delightful dolce far niente at Venice.
Papa, Maman, et Bébé s'en vont à la pêche aux crevettes.
Fin De La Saison.—(At a Cercle Anglais. "Le Fiv' o'clock," i.e., Afternoon Tea.) Britisher. "Coming to the ball to-night, Count?"
Monsieur le Comte. "Moi, mon cher? Ah, non. I am tired. I have the ache everywhere. I have play the football!"
Britisher. "Good! What?—Forward, half-back?"
Monsieur le Comte. "Forward! Half-back! Par exemple, I am 'Arbitre'—how you say it?—Referee!"
IMPRESSIONS FROM ABROAD
(By Our Susceptible Subscriber)
Impressions on my hat after going down the salt mine at Berchtesgaden.
Impressions on my alpenstock after looking at the Alpine Peaks from below with an opera-glass.
Impressions on my nose and forehead by the mosquitoes, when I would be poetical and stay all the evening on the Rialto at Venice.
Impressions on my ears by the bad language of my guide, when I refused to pay for the echoes awakened on the Rhine by an ancient howitzer.
Impressions on my heart by memories of that pretty little Frenchwoman I travelled with from Turin.
Impressions on my feet by her sweet little bottines.
Impression on my mind, after Mrs. P. detected those bottines too near my boots, that it would be better not to be so susceptible another time.
Thought By A Tourist.—Too many Cook's Excursionists spoil the table d'hôte.THE RULING PASSION
Customs Official. "Have you anything to declare?"
Absent-minded Traveller (Bridge-player, just catching last word). "Oh, leave it to you!"INTERNATIONAL COMPARISONS
Henri Dubois (who can speak English) to his friend 'Arry Smith (who can't). "Pardon me, mon ami! You are very pretty boy, you dress in ze most perfect 'chic'; but vy do you speak your own language so ungrammaticallé?"
'Arry. "Why do I speak my hown langwidge so hungrammatical? 'Ang it, yer down't suppowse as I were hedgerkited at Heton or 'Arrow like a bloomin' swell, do yer?"
Henri. "Voyez donc ça! Now in France zere is no Eton, no Harrow: all ze public schools are ze same, and ze butcher and baker's little boys go zere, and ze little candlestick-makers, and ze little boys of ze merchants of cheese like you and me!"
'Arry. "Come, I s'y, Walker, yer know! And where do their customers' little boys go?"
Henri. "Parbleu! Zey go zere too!!"
['Arry, suddenly conscious of his deficiencies, feels bitterly towards his country."DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES"
Old Gentleman. "Are you certain that these life-belts are cork, and not half sawdust?"
Storeman. "They are the best quality. We have sold hundreds, and never had a complaint!"
Happy Geographical Thought (when crossing the Channel in exceptionally rough weather).—"Oh dear! What a pity that the sea everywhere can't be the Pacific Ocean!"
"The Travellers' Club."—An alpenstock.Foreign Hotels.
"What!—No Soap!"—"Oh—er—juste regardez ici, mademoiselle! Vous nous avez chargé pour le savon—et nous ne l'avons pas usé, vous savez, car——"
"Oh, mamma! How can you!"
[Poor things! they had brought their own.]The Last Thing Out.
Sensation created every morning at Crevetteville-sur-Mer by Colonel F—— (of the Guards) and the lovely Lady Magnolia D——.The Personal Equation.
Ducal Butler (showing art treasures of Stilton Castle). "The three Graces—after Canova!"
Mrs Ramsbotham. "How interesting! And pray, which is the present Duchess?"
Her Husband (going on the Continent). "Look here, Arabella, from now you and I will speak nothing but French."
Arabella. "Oui."
Her Husband. "What did you say?""EASIER SAID THAN DONE"
Stout Traveller (in the Eastern Counties). "My lad—which is the—quickest way—for me to get to the station?"
Street Arab. "Wh' run bo'! 'th' else yeow'll sartain'y lewse th' tr'ine! There goo th' bell!!"DESPAIR!
Brown has locked his portmanteau with one of those letter padlocks and forgotten the word that opens it.
[Only ten minutes to dinner!
VIATOR'S VADE MECUM
(Or Compendious Weather-Guide for the British Tourist)
When the wind is in the North,
Gingham take if you go forth.
If to Eastward veer the wind,
Gingham do not leave behind.
If to West the wind should tend,
Gingham is your surest friend.
If it seek the South, of course,
Gingham is your sole resource.
Intermediate points demand
Gingham constantly in hand.
If there be no wind at all,
Gingham take, for rain will fall.
At all other times, no doubt,
Gingham you may do without,
Yet e'en then an hour may bring 'em,—
Showers I mean,—so take your Gingham!
English Tourist (in the far North, miles from anywhere). "Do you mean to say that you and your family live here all the winter? Why, what do you do when any of you are ill? You can never get a doctor!"
Scotch Shepherd. "Nae, sir. We've just to dee a natural death!"
The Place in Hot Weather.—Lazistan.THE WATER CURE
Young Lady. "So you've been on the Continent, Professor?"
The Professor. "Yes, I've been to Marienbad, taking the baths, you know."
Young Lady. "Really? That was a change for you, wasn't it?"
"Oh! con-found these country looking-glasses, though!"THE HOT WEATHER
Traveller (bedtime, thermometer 100°!). "Waiter, go' sh'ch a thing as a warmin'-pan?"
Waiter (astounded). "A warming-pan, sir!"
Traveller. "And got any ice?"
Waiter. "Ice, sir? Yessir!"
Traveller. "Then tell 'chamb'maid to run a pan of ice through my bed, and let me have my candle. I'll turn in!!"
Scene—An Indian Station, on the eve of a Fancy Ball.—Globe-trotting "Bounder" (newly arrived). "You're running this ball, ain't you? Is fancy dress de rigueur?"
Choleric Colonel (who is Ball Secretary). "Fancy dress, sir, is not de rigueur, but an invitation is!"Up country Joys In India.
The Mem Sahib (with a view to seasonable festivities). "I wonder if you have got such a thing as lemon peel or candied peel in your shop?"
"Europe Shop" Keeper. "Ah, no, Mem Sahib. Onlee got it 'cockle' peel and 'beesham' peel!"
THE TRAVELLERS' PROTECTION LEAGUE
The T. P. L. commenced operations last week with regard to the unpunctuality of certain railway companies, and should be encouraged to go a little farther. We want protection against:— 1. Passengers who try to keep us out of carriages by fictitiously placing hats and wraps on more seats or corners than they will themselves occupy.
2. Passengers who endeavour to enter carriages when we have fictitiously placed hats and wraps on more seats or corners than we shall ourselves occupy.
3. People who smoke bad tobacco in compartments where there are ladies.
4. Ladies who ride in compartments where we smoke bad tobacco.
5. Parties who insist upon having the window open when we wish it shut.
6. Parties who insist upon having the window shut when we wish it open.
7. Persons who try to squeeze in when our carriage is full.
8. Persons who try to keep us out when their carriage is full.
9. Objectionable babies.
10. Objectors to babies.
And a job lot of grievances, viz.:—
11. The British landscape, now consisting of pill advertisements.
12. Clapham Junction.
13. Bank Holiday traffic and excursionists, racing and football crowds.
14. The weather.
15. Nasty smelling smoke.
16. Irritatingly uncertain lamps.
17. The increase in the income-tax.
18. The cussedness of things in general.
19. And, lastly, the Billion Dollar Trust.
If the T. P. L. will abate or abolish any or all of these nuisances we shall be very greatly obliged.A TIGHT FIT
Chorus of Girls (to popular party on bank). "Oh, do come with us, there's plenty of room!"
Mrs. Ramsbotham was asked if she liked yachting, and she replied that she preferred terra-cotta. She probably meant terra-firma."WHEN A MAN DOES NOT LOOK HIS BEST"
When, after lunching sumptuously at a strange hotel in a strange part of the country, it suddenly occurs to him that he has left his purse, with all his money in it, in the mail train going North.
At Munich.—Mr. Joddletop (to travelling companion at Bierhalle). What they call this larger beer for I'm blessed if I know! Why, it's thinner than what I drink at home.
MR. PUNCH'S COUNTRY RAMBLES
(With acknowledgments to the "Daily Chronicle")
A memorable afternoon may be spent by taking the train to Muggleton, and walking from there by way of Mudford, Sloppington, Stickborough-in-the-Marsh, Drencham, St. Swithuns, and Swillingspout to Poddleton-on-the-Slosh. The whole district is full of memories of the great Hodge family (before it migrated into the towns). Quite a number of mute, inglorious Miltons are buried in Poddleton churchyard, but a few people may still be seen in the market-place on Saturdays.
Route of Ramble.—Alighting at Muggleton Station (too much reliance should not be placed upon the elocution of the local railway porter) leave the refreshment room resolutely on the left (as you will need to keep your intelligence clear), and proceed in a north-north-east-half-northerly direction along a winding lane, until Mudford Beacon appears in the rear. Then turn back across six meadows and a ploughed field, following alternately the bed of a stream and the right bank of the canal until Sloppington is reached. From there follow the boundary line between the counties of Mudshire and Slopshire as far as Stickborough: from two to seven miles further on (according to the best local computation) lies Drencham, where is a remarkable pump. Leaving this landmark south-west-by-west, veer sharply to the left twice, and pursue a zig-zag course. If, at the twenty-second field, you are not within easy reach of Swillingspout it will be because you are incapable of following this brief chronicle. From the last-named place the nearest way to Poddleton is through the railway tunnel. It is not public, but persons have sometimes succeeded in getting through. Poddleton is nine miles from a station, but an omnibus walks the distance occasionally, when the horse is not required for funerals or other purposes.
Length of Ramble.—Doubtful. Has only been done in sections.
Miss-guided folks in Paris.—Evidently those who are personally conducted by "Lady Guides.""BY THE CARD"
Pedestrian. "How far is it to Sludgecombe, boy?"
Boy. "Why, 'bout twenty 'underd theausan' mild 'f y' goo 's y'are agooin' now, an' 'bout half a mild 'f you turn right reaound an' goo t'other way!!"
Traveller. "Can you direct me to Hollow Meadows?"
Hodge (who stutters frightfully). "Ye-ye-ye-yes. You t-t-t-t-take the f-f-f-first t-t-t-t-turning on th-the right, and ku-ku-ku-keep straight on ower th' b-b-b-brig. Bu-bub-bub-but you'd bub-bub-bub-better be gu-gu-gu-gangin' on. You'll gu-gu-get there quicker th-th-th-than I can t-t-t-tell you!"MUCH PLEASANTER FOR ALFRED
Constance (adding the last straw). "There, darling! I hope I've forgotten nothing. And oh, Alfred! how much, much pleasanter to carry our things ourselves, and be alone together, than to have a horrid servant trotting behind us, and listening to every word we say!"SOMETHING FROM THE PROVINCES
Excursionist (politely). "Can you kindly direct me the nearest way to Slagley?"
Powerful Navvy. "Ah can poonch th' head o' thee!"
[Excursionist retires hastily.ON THE COLONIAL TOUR
Famous Pianist. "Himmel! how hot it is! I really think I might just have half an inch cut off—just round the nape of my neck you know. Just thinned a little——"
His Agent. "Out of the question, my boy. Remember clause seven in the agreement—'Your hair not to be cut till the last concert in Australia is over'!"EVOLUTION EXTRAORDINARY
British Tourist (who has been served with a pig's foot). "What's this? I ordered quail!"
Negro Waiter. "Wall—y'ev got quail!"
British Tourist. "Quail! Why a quail's a bird!"
Negro Waiter. "Not here!"
THE IDEAL HOLIDAY
Come, Phyllis, for the season is already on the wane,
And the question of our holiday perplexes once again;
Now every jaded Londoner fresh stores of vigour seeks,
Our problem is how best to pass these few and fleeting weeks.
As one by one each watering-place we call to mind in turn
As promptly some objection to each one we discern;
Thus Scarborough's too chilly, and Ilfracombe too hot,
And this too near, and that too dear, that sandy and this not.
The Alps are always overrun and crowded as Cheapside,
And the garlic-reeking South I own I never could abide;
The Bads—Aix, Vichy, Taunus, Homburg, Carlsbad, Neuenahr, Are either vulgar, crowded, dull, expensive, or too far.
Oh, for some new and lone retreat, nor far away nor near,
With lovely sights to charm the eye, soft sounds to soothe the ear; Where vexed and wearied spirits, such as yours and mine, might rest, And find in life new purpose, in its joys unwonted zest;
Some Aidenn, some Elysium of rapturous delight,
Where peace should reign unbroken from the dawn to fall of night!
Yet since for the impossible in vain we yearn, 'tis clear,
It will end no doubt as usual, in "Good old Margate," dear."THE VALET OF THE NILE"
Much talked about, but very seldom seen!
"A railway from Joppa to Jerusalem" sounds like a Scriptural line. In future, "going to Jericho" will not imply social banishment, as the party sent thither will be able to take a return-ticket.
So Nice And Sympathetic.—A gentleman, whose one glass eye had served him for years, had the misfortune to drop it. It smashed to atoms. This happened when he was far away in the country. He inquired of a friend where was the nearest place for him to go and get refitted.
"Why don't you call upon the girl you were flirting with all last night?" his friend inquired. "She has a first-class reputation for making eyes."
Balloonery.—"We went spinning through the air!" said an enthusiastic aeronaut, describing his recent trial trip.
"Indeed!" observed his companion, meditatively. "Judging by your description it sounds as if you had been in an 'heir-loom' instead of an 'air-ship.'"
At Brussels.—Mrs. Trickleby (pointing to an announcement in grocer's window, and spelling it out). Jambon d'Yorck. What's that mean, Mr. T.?
Mr. T. (who is by way of being a linguist). Why, good Yorkshire preserves, of course. What did you suppose it was—Dundee marmalade?
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